And there, in multiple posts, people were calling Irma Brew “murder central.” Joking about coffee served with a side of crime, wondering if they should avoid the place until things settled down. There was even someone who said they had inside information that the unnamed hiker who had found the body on Sunday was none other than Brooke Davies, the owner of Irma Brew.
Brooke’s stomach dropped. “This is going to hurt business.”
“Maybe,” Becky said carefully. “Or maybe people will be curious. They might want to see where the arrest happened. People are weird that way.”
“That’s not the kind of attention I want.”
“I know. But we’ll get through it. The shop’s been here for years. People know us, know we’re not involved in whatever happened.”
But Brooke was involved, wasn’t she? She’d found the body. She talked to Tyler on the mountain. She’d just agreed to go on a date with him minutes before his arrest.
The gossip mill wouldn’t care about nuance. They’d just see connections and make assumptions.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” Becky said. “Go home and decompress. I can handle the shop.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Take care of yourself. But, Brooke . . . ”
“Yes?”
“This one.” Becky pointed at the comment saying Brooke had been the one to find Sheila’s body. “Why would they say that?”
Brooke’s shoulders drooped. Becky was staring at her, waiting, and Brooke knew she couldn’t dodge it anymore.
“It’s true. I found her while I was out on my Sunday run.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”
Brooke nodded.
“You didn’t say anything.”
“It was...there was an investigation.” The truth, but Brooke knew she could’ve still told Becky—had she wanted to, but she hadn’t. It seemed so much easier to pretend it hadn’t happened. She hadn’t even told her dad or brother, and even though there was an article in the online newspaper, her name had been kept out of it thanksto her friend Joe Monroe, another member of her running club and a fellow survivor of Bearwater.
“Still.” Becky shook her head. “You should’ve taken some time off.”
“I’m fine. Really. But I think I’ll go now if you’re okay here.”
“Absolutely. I’ll see if I can get someone to come in early. We’ll be fine.”
Brooke nodded, grabbing her jacket and bag. She needed to get out of there, away from the stares, whispers, and phones recording everything.
She glanced at the table where she’d sat with Tyler. Where he’d asked her out. Where she’d said yes, feeling hopeful for the first time in months. Feeling like maybe she could trust herself to have a chance at a relationship without messing things up. Without her usual tendency to fixate and then second-guess every choice.
Instead everything had fallen apart, and this time it wasn’t even her fault.
She looked out the front window. People were gathered on the sidewalk, talking in clusters.
Brooke headed for the kitchen to go out the back and into the alley where she parked.
Her phone buzzed as she reached her car. It was a text from Phil:Heard Tyler got arrested in your coffee shop. You okay?
News really did travel fast in a small town.
She didn’t respond. She didn’t know what to say. How could she be okay when she was this confused, this conflicted about everything?
The case Adam laid out sounded possible: a history with the victim, being at the bank Friday night, his presence on the mountain, a pattern of suspicious circumstances.
